The Biology of the Charming Magician
by Dark Marx Soul
Summary: Dimentio, the Pleaser of Crowds, examines the components of his own being. An old exercise in character descriptions that is now outdated, and that I originally wrote on December 15th, 2009 at the age of fourteen.


The Biology of the Charming Magician

Dimentio looked at himself in the mirror, thinking to himself. He recalled what everyone he had ever met thought about him; none of it had been good, and rightly so. He didn't present a...sane image.

You couldn't really put a definite age on the jester, though he looked about sixteen, and was about that tall, perhaps a little shorter. His face was young looking, though hid traces of malevolence, no matter which way you looked at it. His skin was a very pasty white colour, which seemed to always draw people to look at him. It was as if he had never gotten sunlight, like a vampire. His mouth was locked in a small, cocky smirk, as if he knew absolutely everything there was to know. His two eyes stared back at him, and as he regarded them he chuckled at the oddness of them. His right eye was bright and vibrant, pure yellow in colour, and it seemed to sparkle as he looked at it. His left eye, in direct contrast, was incredibly dull, grey in colour. The two eyes together made a very strange image, and were almost distracting. He ran his hand through his hair, which went down to a bit below his eyes. It wasn't perfect, but it was okay. Another oddity of it was the colour: the left half was black as night, and almost shone, while the right half was white as a ghost, and it was split directly down the centre of his head. His eyes travelled down his body; it was thinner and weaker than most people his assumed age, and Dimentio lacked the physical strength that it implied. Because of that, he used his magic to fight, and not his strength. Up until now, it had served him well, and he was hoping that his weak body wouldn't haunt him in the future. His arms hung limp by his sides, his long fingers twitching. He looked underweight, and most would tell him to eat more. As for clothes, he wore a comfortable black shirt and, black pants. Black gloves covered his hands, and curled jester shoes of the same colour were on his feet. Over top of that, a colourful poncho flowed down from his neck to his wrists, motley purple and yellow in colour, a yellow jewel at his collar. A great big jester-esque hat rested on his head, also purple and yellow in colour. The whole outfit would have given him a silly look, if not for the facial expression that turned most people away. He picked up his mask and put it on his face; it was black and white, split down the middle, though the colours were reversed in contrast to his hair. The mouth was set in a silly, Comedy-esque grin, the eyes done in the same style.

All of these things gave the jester an insane image. He just looked it. However, people only saw Dimentio's outer image. On the inside, he was _much_ less sane. His mind was a whirlwind of plans, thoughts, and negative emotions. He was a very intelligent person, giving birth to many plans, altering them as the situation needed. If something happened that he didn't expect, he changed the plan to suit the change. What did the plans entail? The realization of his dream: a perfect world, with him as the ruler. Every time he looked, he saw the world as a disgusting, imperfect pit, and he would give anything to fix it. All of his plans saw that end. Every time he thought of his perfect world, he got all giddy with excitement. Most thoughts of his centred around that, though a lot more involved the painful destruction of his enemies. Dimentio had a very wicked, sadistic personality, and he wished he could paint the floor with his enemies' blood quite frequently. Out of all things, there was one thing he didn't particularly care for: love. Love was a pathetic, useless emotion, and shouldn't exist in the world. That's what he thought with every fibre of his being. It only caused trouble, and he would do anything to erase it from him.

He sighed. That couldn't be so, however. Such a thing was impossible.

'Dimentio!' someone called. 'Come to me...Count Bleck!'

Dimentio smiled a smile that made the majority of people shutter and run, even though it was just his normal smile. Yet another thing that made him look insane. A perfect world...it was time to move one step closer to that dream. He warped into the conference room in Castle Bleck, seeing the familiar faces of Count Bleck, Nastasia, and O'Chunks.

'And so I arrive, like a sudden windstorm at a kindergarten picnic!'


End file.
